SAGA OF A CHILD'S LOVE

Jean Adriel

Ahmed Muhammed, a little boy of ten, was another whose love
for Baba manifested itself in a most dramatic way. He was
removed from the school at the same time as Ali. Though by
every means his parents and relatives tried to reconcile him to
the separation from Baba, the little chap continued to yearn for
his beloved Master to such a degree that after four months of
living at home he suddenly determined to make his way back to Meherabad.

Without bedding roll, food or money he started
on foot for his destination. He managed to sell three silver
buttons in his shirt for three annas (about eight cents), a few
of which he paid out for a short train journey, which would take
him quickly out of range of his family or friends. Then he
proceeded to tramp across the country in the scorching Indian
sun. By the time he had walked about fourteen miles, it was
nightfall and he found himself out in the open country. Muscle-weary,
he climbed up into a large tree, which he thought would
be safer than the ground; there he tried to rest,stretched out
on some broad limbs. But since the Indian nights are cool in
winter, and he was without covering, his sleep was very fitful.
At dawn, he resumed his journey.

Having only two annas left, he knew his breakfast must be slim,
so he satisfied himself with a few cold biscuits and a handful of
water. At a village, an inn-keeper took pity on the bedraggled
little boy and offered to secure transportation for him in one of
the passing motor buses. But Ahmed feared he might
encounter someone who knew him and who would report having
seen him to his family; so he refused the offer and continued
his way on foot. At noon he spent another few coins for some
sweets, and rested a little while under the shade of a tree.

As he was hiking along the road, a European motorist gave
him a lift to Poona, which considerably shortened his journey.
His evening meal consisted of a handful of nuts for which he
spent his last money. That night he tried first to sleep on a
bench beside the public road, but the cold winds sent shivers
through his poorly protected body. Later he curled up in the
corner of a building and managed to doze a little.

The next morning, being in the neighborhood of Babajan, his
Master's Master, Ahmed stopped off to pay his respects to her.
She appeared to be sleeping with her head under a shawl when
the boy reached her; so he tiptoed softly and when within a few
feet from her, he bowed reverently before her prostrate form. At
that moment Babajan's beautiful snow-white head emerged from
its covering, and peering directly at Ahmed, gave him a look of
melting love, which sent a thrill of delight through the little
fellow's being.

Feeling recharged by contact with her loving presence, he
proceeded on his journey. At noon an old man offered him
some bread and chutney which the boy gladly accepted, as
this was the first substantial food he had eaten in forty-eight
hours. That night, upon the old man's advice, Ahmed took
shelter in the village mosque, but since it was cold, he slept
but little.

The next day he subsisted on the fruit and leaves of the
tamarind trees which grew along the road. After walking
sixteen miles he felt exhausted from both fatigue and hunger,
so he rested a short while. Then with sheer force of will he
hiked for another six miles, until he reached a railway station.
Here he tried again to rest, but the fire of hunger now raged
within him so fiercely that he was driven to beg for food. He
approached a Mohammedan who led him to the railway station
restaurant and ordered rice and curry for him. But the boy,
thinking the curry would contain meat  the eating of which
would have violated Baba's order  said he preferred only tea and bread.

Later, his hunger somewhat appeased and his body
relaxed, he fell into a sound sleep on the station bench, until an
officious policeman awakened him and drove him away from the
station. The remainder of the night he passed under a staircase.
Here he was comforted by his Master's presence in a dream.

The following day he walked from dawn to sundown without food
and little rest. At another railway station an old lady on the
platform shared with him an unsolicited meal. That night he
ventured again to take refuge in a railway station and this time was undisturbed.

On the sixth day he started his journey at daybreak. This time
he fed himself on jawari plants in the passing fields, eating as
he walked, for now he knew himself to be within a short
distance of his goal  Meherabad. Once more he begged, not
for food, but for flowers to be given as an offering to his Master.
This was Baba's neighborhood, where he is held in great
reverence by the country-folk. In response to the boy's request,
a gardener eagerly presented him with an armful of roses.
Sitting by the road, the child used some of the flowers to weave
a crown for the King of his heart. A little while later a haggard
and hollow-eyed little fellow was placing his offering upon his Master's head.

Thus was completed another saga of a child's love for Baba,
the Master. We in the West, who know so pitifully little of higher
states of consciousness, may think we have disposed of such
a phenomenon as the magnetic drawing of these children to
Baba, when we apply to it the psychological term of 'fixation.'
Even if we granted this, what have we explained? What do we
actually know of the tremendous motivation which must inspire
a child to undergo such severe hardships and suffering?

Certainly no merely human desire, however intense, would
induce a small boy to forego sleep and food for six days, while
compelling his body to undergo the rigorous ordeal of walking
fourteen to twenty miles a day. In spite of any possible
prejudices such incidents compel the admission that Baba is
certainly no ordinary man, to be measured by the usual intellectual yardstick.

While in India, I met a number of these 'school' boys, now
grown into manhood and wholly dedicated to their Master's
service. For the sake of those who quite sincerely may think
that such spiritual upheaval as Baba caused in these young
lives might be disastrous in its later effect, I can say with equal
sincerity that I have never met men more normal or finely
balanced, mentally and emotionally.

The impressions of a European disciple, Mr. C. Leik, who lived
at Meherashram during these days, illumine this phase of Baba's work:

"The Master's love knows no bounds. One must see him
among his Ashram boys to understand the tie of affinity
which exists between Baba and his pupils. How touching
it is to watch these urchins crowd around him when he is
in their dormitory They rush from their beds to embrace
him, placing their tiny arms around his waist, while Baba,
playing with them, teasing them gently, fills their hearts with childish glee."